


Moss Gathering

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternative Universe - Some people Live/Not everybody dies, F/M, Finduilas Was Gil-galad, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Goldberry was not the first name she had, nor was Tom Bombadil the first name he had.Gandalf was not going to trample over their wishes, though, if Finduilas had anything to say about it.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Finduilas Faelivrin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42
Collections: Finwëan Ladies Week 2020





	Moss Gathering

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Finwean Ladies Week 2020, Day 4.

Finduilas first saw Gandalf after the end of the war, when he came up the path to the moss covered rocks and looked at the trees that even now whispered in languages that most could not hear. 

Sauron must truly be vanquished this time, if Gandalf’s quest was over and he had time enough to return to them. 

“Well met! Your appearance is enough to confirm the rumors as truth,” she called down the riverbank and hoped Celebrimbor was close enough to hear her, and to decide for himself if he truly wished to see a Maia this close. 

Gandalf nodded. “I had hoped to speak to you both of matters related to such, but Sauron is gone.”

“My husband has forsaken his interest in rings and crafts, as have I in ruling and politics. You need not go into details of it, nor indeed to speak to us both if that is all you wish.” Finduilas met his gaze with a raised brow, and for a moment Gandalf looked as though he was seeing someone else. 

It was mostly true that they had given up their pasts, though sometimes Finduilas would slip into one of her old outfits and drift through the trees towards Bree or catch the attention of one of the wandering bands, in the hopes of gathering information about what occurred in the realms of Men and Elves. It was not that she wished to rule again, exactly. It was mostly that she knew too much of how quickly bad decisions could turn events. 

Celebrimbor’s interest in such was almost entirely lost, however, along with most of his memories of the last few days of his torment. He stayed in their lands and worked on new things, though he did speak to the Hobbits brave enough to speak back. 

She knew she had not quite managed to disguise her interest when Gandalf laughed at last. “I hope you do not think me fool enough to believe that in its entirety.”

“It is true for him.” She shrugged, not moving from the path to allow the wizard to pass closer. “And there are no pressing matters so great I would forsake his needs for my slight interests.” 

Gandalf lost his smile then, becoming once more solemn and still. “Elrond informed me of the circumstances surrounding his rescue. I do not intend to interfere, only to inform him of the final fate of the rings, and to give him one back if he wishes it.”

Finduilas’ breath caught at the mention of the rings and the sight of Narya on Gandalf’s hand. Then she shook her head and forced herself to respond. “Do not offer him one back. I thank you for the thought, but he will not thank you for the offer. He wishes to no longer see or think of the rings.” 

“And you?” Gandalf looked at her. 

“I have the only jewelry I wish for, I need no others.” 

He nodded, slipping the ring off his finger and into a pocket. She relaxed slightly when it was gone, before Gandalf spoke again. “There is also the matter of your families. Will you not tell the Lady Galadriel of your survival?” 

She could. She could go to Lothlorien, or wait for when the elves leaving these lands passed by the Shire, catching her aunt under the shadows of the trees and speaking of their lives. It was possibly the last chance she would have to do so.

She would not allow herself to take it. 

“Finduilas is gone beneath the oceans, and Gil-galad beneath the marshes. She need not know of who I am now, only to lose me a few days later,” Finduilas paused, considering what to say next. “And my husband has given up more than even I have. The time of elves has passed, and we have both agreed to let legends though gone remain dead. My aunt has mourned me already, while I slept senseless and recovered slowly. Let her go to her own healing with peace.” 

“The path is open to you both, if you wish to come.” Gandalf smiled at her, the type that Celebrimbor had once told her only those who had learned from Nienna could give. It was not quite pity, but it was close enough she had to remind herself to not react to that. 

“Nay. We gave away that choice when we gave away all our names. There is no healing in Valinor now, for either of us.” Her hands closed around the brooch she had worn for months. Tindómel had worn it once. So had Elros’ other descendants, until these lands had fallen into despair that even the greatest could not turn back. There would soon be no others in these lands who could recount those who had, and few who would care if she told them of its history. 

Celebrían would know what it meant. She unclasped it, pulling it away from herself and dropping it in Gandalf’s hand. “Give this to my cousin when you arrive in Valinor. Elrond will know what it is.” 

“You will not come?” He asked again. 

He had known her father once. Perhaps he knew Orodreth’s fate even now, as they all knew Finrod’s. The chance to see those she had not seen in Ages and to walk beside those others who had passed into legend in these lands and would not walk again in them was tempting.

Then she looked again at the river and the trees around her that have been home for so many years. Past those were the Hobbits who sometimes wandered into their woods, and Men who still needed protection. Further away still were Elves and other Men, sometimes friends of theirs and sometimes foe, but none they was willing to give up now. “Not until we can do no more. Sauron may be defeated, but the lands are not yet safe.” 

“Then I will speak to you no more of the matter.” He pulled a cloth from his pocket, wrapping the brooch carefully before tucking it away. “Tell me, did you ever meet any of the Onodrim in your youth?” 

“Yes. My uncles were especially fond of the eldest one, though I have not heard any tale of him in years.” She smiled at the sudden memory of Aegnor and Angrod visiting, tales of walking trees brought to entertain her, and the first time she had gone to their lands and met one. 

“Than let us find your husband, if he wishes to be found, and I shall tell you both a new tale of him.” Gandalf sidestepped her then, headed towards the house. 

Finduilas laughed as she followed him.


End file.
